


Daddy's Doll

by WholockHobbit88



Series: Little Sherlock and John [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adult baby, Age Play, Daddy!John, Diapers, Dress Up, Frozen (2013) References, Gen, Gender Issues, Infantilism, Role Reversal, baby!Sherlock - Freeform, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John finds out about some of Sherlock's more feminine intrests, he gets Sherlock a brand new outfit. The only catch is Sherlock gets to pick up an outfit for John to wear as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John sat back in his desk chair, stretching his arms and popping his knuckles in satisfaction as he submitted his latest post to his blog. He and Sherlock had been working a case for several weeks, a double murder that had proved to be extra challenging and it had made for one of his longest and most interesting blog posts yet. When he sat back in his chair, relaxing from the energy spent working on it, he saw the clock on his computer, showing that he had spent over two hours writing without even thinking of it much. John looked out the window of 221B, watching the rain running down the window slowly, calming him. Even though he’d worked so much on the blog this morning, he was feeling at ease, ready for the first day off he’d had in far too long. 

John was considering whether to make himself a cuppa when he glanced again at the clock. Two hours……he’d worked in silence, uninterrupted for over two hours with Sherlock also in the flat somewhere. His stomach gave a nervous flutter; what had his little boy been doing for the past two hours? Just like with children, too much silence wasn’t always a good thing. It almost always suggested that there was something to hide. 

With a resigned sigh, John pushed back from his chair and walked toward Sherlock’s room. Sherlock, having worked so hard and having little time to relax lately, was deep in the small place within him. John smiled to himself when he thought about last night. As soon as the case had been solved and they had come home, John had given Sherlock a bath, dressed him in his warmest footed pyjamas and given him a bottle. They had fallen asleep warm and nestled next to each other, Sherlock’s lips still on the bottle. When John had left Sherlock to go work on his blog, he’d been sitting in bed, coloring. John wasn’t naïve; he knew his little boy well and that wouldn’t have kept his attention for more than a couple of minutes. While Sherlock could happily entertain himself in play for extended periods of time, he was usually whining to John within an hour that he wanted John to play with him. Not that John minded it; he loved it actually. For Sherlock to be shut up in his room this long…..he had to be up to no good. John got flashes of Sherlock’s previous naughtiness in his head; Sherlock modifying all of John’s mobile contacts, scribbles on the wall in marker, a certain favorite jumper of John’s being used as horrible makeshift nappy……John quickened his pace. 

John opened Sherlock’s bedroom door as soon as he reached it, alarmed for what he might find. He stuck his head in the door, a wide smile spreading across his face. What he saw this time wasn’t naughtiness or some terror of little-Sherlock-gone-wrong. What he saw was actually adorable. 

Sherlock lay on his stomach on the floor, his green blankie tucked under him. He had his stuffed Olaf sitting beside him and in his hands were two toys John had never seen; Elsa and Anna dolls. Sherlock held them up in his hands, facing each other, playing out a scene from the movie with as much drama as he could. 

“He’s just like the one we built as kids.... We were so close. We can be like that again!” Sherlock said, moving the Anna doll. Sticking closely to character, Sherlock changed his voice to match Elsa’s. “No…..we can’t! Goodbye Anna!” 

John leaned on the doorframe, pleasantly surprised that Sherlock hadn’t noticed him yet. It was a rather entertaining and completely adorable sight to behold. John watched as Sherlock pulled at a plastic beaded necklace around his neck-Frozen, of course- and nibbled on it between character shifts. 

“Elsa, wait!” Sherlock called out, making the Anna doll chase the Elsa doll. “I’m just trying to protect you!” He called out in Elsa’s voice. Sherlock thrust the Anna doll dramatically at Elsa. “You don’t have to protect me. I’m not afraid. Please don’t shut me out again.” 

John smiled; Sherlock had the script down to the exact words; he was glad when Sherlock continued the scene by standing up, twirling the dolls around in circles as he began to sing. 

“PLEASE DON’T SLAM THE DOOR.  
YOU DON’T HAVE TO KEEP YOUR  
DISTANCE ANYMORE.  
‘CAUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN  
FOREVER,  
I FINALLY UNDERSTAND.  
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER,  
WE CAN FIX THIS HAND IN HAND.  
WE CAN HEAD DOWN THIS MOUNTAIN  
TOGETHER.  
YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIVE IN FEAR.  
‘CAUSE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN  
FOREVER-------------!”

The song was abruptly cut off as Sherlock twirled around to come and face John. His face fell at once, caught red handed, a deep blush coming to his cheeks. He tossed the Elsa and Anna dolls across the room and tucked his pink and blue necklace under his t-shirt and out of sight. He seemed horribly embarrassed but John couldn’t see why; he could have watched the scene all afternoon. 

“Why did you stop?” John asked with a small laugh. “I was enjoying the show, princess”

Sherlock’s cheeks blushed deep crimson, his ears burning. “Don’t call me princess” he said, crossing his arms and pouting like a two year old. He grabbed his blankie off of the floor, stomped to his bed and flung himself on it, his nappy making a loud crinkling. 

“Aw…..don’t be so sensitive” John teased, sitting on down on the bed across from Sherlock. “Get your dolls back out and finish the scene. I really did like watching you do it.”

“I don’t play with dolls!” Sherlock hissed, putting on a full out little Sherlock pout. He was a force to reckoned with when he was like this. This type of bad mood could go on for hours if John wasn’t careful. 

“Well, you just were playing with Elsa and Anna weren’t you?” John asked gently. Honestly, he didn’t see why Sherlock was being so sensitive. While John hadn’t ever seen Sherlock play with a doll, he didn’t see anything wrong with it. Sherlock loved Frozen; there was no reason at all he wouldn’t want to engage in that kind of play. 

“I bloody said I don’t play with dolls!” Sherlock snapped acidly, his face turning even redder, now fueled by anger.

John could see that Sherlock was obviously sensitive to the doll issue; maybe he thought, especially in a little mindset that dolls were for girls and he shouldn’t want to play with them. But he could see Sherlock was on his way to a full blown temper tantrum and he was going to nip it in the bud. “Sherlock, is that how you speak to daddy? Snapping at me and using naughty words?” John asked in his firm voice. It wasn’t quite his ‘captain’s voice’ but it was firm enough that Sherlock knew he meant business. 

“No…..” Sherlock whined, rolling his eyes. It took all of John’s resolve not to give Sherlock a good smack for the eye roll; he was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“You don’t need to be upset” John said slowly. “I just came in here to check on you and saw you acting out Frozen with your figures” he supplemented the word to avoid argument “I thought it was really very cute. There’s nothing to be insulted about. I loved your little voices you used for the figures, your singing….” John reached under the collar of Sherlock’s shirt and pulled his necklace out, running his hands along the beads. “And your necklace looks beautiful on you”

John had long learned that with Sherlock, there was always a surprise coming. Still, it never failed to shock him when one came along. With John’s fingers still on Sherlock’s necklace, Sherlock met John’s eyes and smacked the hand holding his necklace. John was so surprised that he felt his mouth fall open; while Sherlock was really very mischievous, he hardly ever hit John. He’d given Sherlock a chance to make better choices about how this situation would go but he hadn’t followed through. Hitting was definitely not something that John left unpunished. 

“Sherlock Holmes, did you just hit daddy?” John asked, the captain’s voice now out in full force. “I think you have something you need to say to me right this instant” John was giving Sherlock a chance to apologize. He was still going to give him a spanking, but this was Sherlock’s chance to decide if it was going to with-nappy or without-nappy spanking. 

Sherlock was silent for a long moment, a look of challenge on his face. He slammed his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at John. John felt his ire rise; the nappy was definitely coming off. 

“Sherlock, you are being a very naughty boy” John said sternly. “Come here”

Sherlock’s cockiness melted a little bit but he still didn’t obey. John grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him toward him. Slinging Sherlock over his knees, he gave him a few good firm smacks on the bum with the nappy before pulling it off of Sherlock and exposing his pale backside. Sherlock tried to hold onto his tough composure as John swatted his bottom but by the time his light skin was beginning to turn red, Sherlock gave up and started sobbing. Usually, Sherlock was begging for John’s forgiveness by this point but there were no apologies this time; Sherlock just wept bitterly against his legs, crumpled against him. 

“Sherlock, daddy loves you but you have made some bad choices and you need to sit and have a think about it” John said, detaching Sherlock from him and setting him on the bed. He lay with his little red bum in the air for a minute, staring at John with tears running down his cheeks before he dove under the covers of his bed and began to cry so loudly it could only be described as wailing. 

It always pained John to leave Sherlock like this; Sherlock always cried after being spanked and John knew that he needed that. It was a release for Sherlock; his emotions were so strong but they were so deep and he needed help releasing them. While it made him sad, he gave Sherlock the time that he needed to properly release and then calm himself.   
John went into the sitting room and turned the telly on even though he didn’t really watch it. Sherlock screamed for a solid 20 minutes before beginning to taper off; he certainly had the cry stamina of a child. When John could no longer hear Sherlock’s crying, he got off of the couch and walked back to his room, happy to patch things up with his little boy. It had been a long time since he’d had to discipline Sherlock this much and he had to say he didn’t particularly care for it. If left up to his own devices, John would have had him properly spoiled by now. But Sherlock made it clear in the very beginning he needed John to be firm. So, he was firm for Sherlock’s good. The only good thing about punishments in John’s opinion was the make up afterwards. 

When John walked back into Sherlock’s room, he found Sherlock lying under the covers, his head sticking out. He had his blankie clutched in his hand, thumb and corner of the blankie popped in his mouth. His face was red and wet; he looked spent after his release and John knew he’d probably sleep if he left him there. John wouldn’t just leave him there though; he didn’t need sleep that badly. 

John came into the room, sitting on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. Grabbing a tissue, he wiped Sherlock’s eyes and nose for him; he never did it himself. “D-d-d-daddy……”Sherlock whined pitifully, his lip sticking out and shaking as if he might start to cry in earnest again; the sight of it broke John’s heart. 

“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry” John said, scooping Sherlock onto his lap. Sherlock quickly nuzzled his head against John’s chest as John laid the blanket across Sherlock’s still bare lower half. He laid Sherlock’s head against his shoulder, rubbing his hair affectionately. “Daddy doesn’t like to punish you, you know. But if you don’t make good choices, there are punishments. You know why I spanked you, don’t you?”

“I-I-I h-hit you” Sherlock stuttered, still clearly shaken from his weeping spell. He made a loud sucking noise as he sucked his thumb anxiously. 

“Yes” John confirmed. “That hurts daddy, you know? It hurt my hand and my feelings. I don’t like it when you’re not kind to me.”

“I-I l-love you” Sherlock gasped, taking racking breaths. They began to calm as John ran his hand along Sherlock’s cheek. 

“I know you love me, and I love you too, sweet” John soothed. “That’s why we need to be kind to each other. When we love someone we’re nice to them, right?” Sherlock nodded wordlessly. “Can you tell daddy why you got so upset? Why you hit me?”

Sherlock was silent for a moment. “You make fun of me” he said in a little tone mixed with hurt. 

“I didn’t make fun of you” John said quickly, confused. Sure, he made fun of Sherlock all the time when they were big; Sherlock asked for it by insulting him so often. But when Sherlock was little, all he did was praise him. 

“You said I was beautiful” Sherlock protested, as if it was the worst thing in the world. 

John smiled, tilting Sherlock’s face to look at him. “Well, that’s not making fun of you” he said, “I told you you were beautiful because I think you are.” John felt his face flush; it was the sort of thing that he could only imagine saying when Sherlock acted little even though Sherlock was clearly very attractive even when he was being big. 

“I’m not a girl” Sherlock said with the undignified tone of an insulted child. 

“I know that of course” John said with a small laugh. “You’re always daddy’s little boy. Sorry, I suppose handsome would be a better word?” 

Sherlock ignored the question, thoroughly worked up now. “You called me princess!” he said, gesturing with his hands as if trying to get John to understand. 

Well, that’s what it came down to; Sherlock was certainly having a sensitive day. “I’m sorry, I suppose I was teasing you” John relented. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I really did think you were acting very cute. And you know, there’s nothing wrong with little boys playing with dolls.” John could practically feel his own father rolling over in his grave at the statement; still, John saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. 

“Well, then don’t laugh at it!” Sherlock snapped, offended and on his way to getting worked up again. “Mycroft laughed at it, don’t you be like him!”

John paused; maybe there was the root cause of the problem. John was sure that Mycroft knew of Sherlock’s littleness; not because Sherlock would have ever told him but because Mycroft shared Sherlock’s powers of deduction. But John didn’t know if this was a new issue or if Sherlock was referring to his actual childhood. “What did Mycroft laugh at?” John asked unassumingly. 

Sherlock was silent, looking down at his lap for so long that John was sure that he wasn’t going to talk when he finally broke the silence. “I was little and I used to play dolls and Mycroft was older and he laughed at me. He dressed me up and made fun of me.”

The only knowledge John gained from this was that this had happened when they were children; the rest only made him more confused. “What do you mean, dressed you up?” John asked gently. 

Sherlock gave a dramatic huff, as if all the talking was simply too much for him. John, determined to understand what this odd incident was all about, rubbed Sherlock’s back in an effort to soothe him. “It’s alright, sweetie” he cooed. “Tell daddy what upset you. It’s just me and you.” 

Sherlock took a long breath and finally decided to talk. “I was little…..I didn’t know any better” Sherlock defended himself. “Mycroft was so big and I wanted him to play with me. He acted like he wanted to play with me; we took care of the dolls together. He dressed me up in pretty clothes. I didn’t know they were girls clothes…..I didn’t!” Sherlock yelled as if arguing with his past. “I just thought they were pretty……Then Mycroft’s friends came over and they laughed at me.” He stuck his lip out in a babyish pout. “Mum yelled at him something terrible but it didn’t help. I still didn’t have anyone to play with. But I didn’t know it was wrong……I swear I didn’t! I thought we were just playing!”

John felt indignation burn his ears; he knew he couldn’t very well call Mycroft and yell at him for something that he did when he was a teenager but he wanted to. There was such a large age gap between Sherlock and Mycroft, John wasn’t surprised that Sherlock had wanted to be around him and play with him. It was unfortunate that Sherlock’s innocence, so fragile a thing that he had retained it into adulthood, had been manipulated. Sherlock was so strong on the outside but deep down he held things tightly. He hated that Sherlock seemed to think he’d done something wrong and hated even more that something he had said had dredged this long ago incident up. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong” John assured him quickly. “You were just playing. Mycroft was wrong to do that to you. I promise you can play with whatever you like and I won’t laugh at you.”

Sherlock pouted more furiously, crossing his arms and sticking his lip out even further; the picture of a child wronged. John was trying to think of a way to get Sherlock out of his funk; if Sherlock was going to stay pouty all day it could be a very long day indeed. 

“John….Sherlock? You in here?” Mrs. Hudson’s voice called out through the flat. 

John smiled; a little mothering from Mrs. Hudson might just be what Sherlock needed. She spoiled him relentless like a grandmother; John had to be the responsible parent. 

“We’re in Sherlock’s room” John called out. 

When Mrs. Hudson stuck here head in the door and saw Sherlock perched on John’s lap, cuddling, she grinned. “There are my two favorite boys” she said admiringly. “Wondered if you might want to come down and have dinner with me tonight. I made your favorite biscuits.” She gave Sherlock a wink. 

Sherlock was off of John’s lap, his arms around Mrs. Hudson in a second. “Oh! I do! I do!” he called out, jumping up and down in excitement, his sullenness fizzled out. 

John laughed as Mrs. Hudson stifled a grin behind her hand, blushing slightly. “You might want to put some trousers on first, dear” she said, finally unable to control her smile any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock had had a nice evening with Mrs. Hudson in her flat. Once Sherlock had put on some pants (to his dismay) and trousers, they had went down to her flat and had a delicious dinner, followed by tea and board games. Sherlock, little, had been quite entertaining through the whole event and Mrs. Hudson doted on him endlessly. He would sing, dance, make jokes, anything to make her laugh and tell him what a charming little boy he was. Now John was in the shower to get ready for bed, thinking over how pleasant the day had turned out despite his worries. Sherlock had gone to his room to build something out of Legos; John could trust that to keep him occupied for a while. Sherlock would sort the Legos by color and type while he planned his structure and then start the building process. It could easily keep him occupied for hours. 

While John showered, he found his mind wondering to the conversation he’d had with Sherlock earlier. He’d found the whole incident rather innocent; Sherlock loved Frozen so there was no reason he shouldn’t have Anna and Elsa dolls. But Sherlock’s deep embarrassment on the matter and his childhood story made him wonder if there was more to it. He’d obviously been terribly embarrassed; to still remember something that happened 30 years ago, especially when he deleted everything that was of no importance, meant something. John didn’t know if it was because of Mycroft; Sherlock acted like he hated his older brother but John knew better. It had probably meant a great deal to him, Mycroft playing with him, even once he realized Mycroft didn’t actually care. Being dressed up by him had probably made him feel pretty and admired; Sherlock was, after all, a drama queen and attention hog. He probably, on some level, even liked being dressed up. He was sure a psychologist would have a field day with Sherlock’s story but John actually thought it was kind of cute. He could picture little Sherlock, bouncy black curls and eyes alight with excitement, dressed in some cute, frilly thing. He could picture adult little Sherlock like that, actually. Feeling a sudden strange sensation, John rinsed off and got out of the shower, pushing the thoughts away. 

John dressed in his pyjamas and walked to Sherlock’s room to check on him before going to bed. When he went into Sherlock’s room he was furiously at work on his Legos (castle? He never voiced guesses unless Sherlock gave him hints).

“Hey, I’m going to bed. You coming?” John asked, already knowing he wouldn’t. Sherlock didn’t stop in the middle like this.

Sherlock huffed loudly. “I’m…..not…..finished” Sherlock said, emphasizing each word heavily. What a brat……

“Well, I expect you to be in bed by three” John said firmly, knowing Sherlock wouldn’t sleep if he didn’t give him some perimeters. He should be done with his structure by then and John did expect him to sleep. 

“Alright….night daddy” Sherlock said without looking up from toys. As he snapped in the Legos, John asked a question that was now gnawing at his mind. “Sherlock……when you told me earlier that Mycroft dressed you up, what did he dress you up in?” 

Sherlock was silent for several minutes. “Skirts……dresses……girl stuff” Sherlock said off- handily like he isn’t thinking much about it now. Strange, since he was so concerned about it earlier. John took comfort that maybe he wasn’t as bothered with it now. 

John was assaulted by another unwelcome image of Sherlock in a dress and felt himself grow warm; Mrs. Hudson would die of cute overload if she ever saw Sherlock in a dress. 

“Sherlock, would you like to dress like Elsa?” John asked, curious now. Sherlock had never said it bothered him, just that he thought it was ‘wrong’. 

“Yeah…..but she doesn’t look like me…..duh!” Sherlock said, so dramatically that he lost the Lego he was holding. John smiled; Sherlock was definitely more comfortable and not as sensitive as earlier. 

“Oh, well, of course not” John asked, as if he was stupid. He walked over to Sherlock, placing a kiss to the top of his head. “Have fun and get to bed by three, alright?”  
Sherlock still didn’t look up. “Okay, daddy” he said sweetly. 

John left Sherlock to finish playing, a smile on his face. John walked back to his room; it felt cold and somehow lonely without Sherlock there. He usually, though not always, slept with John when he was little. Usually when he was little he slept every night like a normal human being. John felt like ordering Sherlock to sleep now but he knew that would just create an argument and end up with Sherlock pouting alone in his own bed. John decided to put a nappy on before getting in bed, feeling some kind of need in him. He was slowly coming to a place where he wore nappies now more than actual underwear; strangely, this fact didn’t bother him anymore. 

John got into bed and turned off the lights but lay there for a long while, simply thinking. Now that he was alone, he was consumed with thinking about Sherlock’s girlish interests. No matter what Sherlock said, he wasn’t handsome. He was beautiful; he didn’t have the gruff, rough features most men did. He was refined, he had pretty features. John could picture Sherlock dressing in girl clothes. Now that he had pictured it, that’s all he could picture. 

What the hell was wrong with him? Just a few weeks ago John had kissed Sherlock when he was big and now he was day dreaming of him dressed a girl……he needed to get a grip of himself. The lines were always blurred when it came to Sherlock and his relationship these days but this was beyond. This was out of hand….Before John realized it, he was out of bed and at his desk, opening his laptop. Well, Sherlock had said that he wouldn’t mind wearing a dress, so why not have a look? It didn’t take much searching for John to locate a website that made adult baby clothes; he’d bought Sherlock so many onesies and footie pyjamas over the past couple of years that it wasn’t hard to find. So many cute little dresses, skirts and pinkness filled his eyes….he was sure his hand slipped and he had purchased something. 

Not long after getting out of bed, John was back in it and trying to drift off to sleep, still thinking about Sherlock, wising he was lying beside him. 

…….  
That night, John dreamed; it might have not been uncommon for others but it was uncommon for John. He rarely dreamt and when he did, it was almost always nightmares about Afghanistan or various dangerous cases he went on with Sherlock. That night, however, he dreamt about Sherlock. He hadn’t had a little dream about Sherlock since the very beginning; he’d dreamt of it when he found out. The idea of it had seemed so strange, so tempting…..something about it has resonated deep within him and he had had several dreams about it in the beginning. His subconscious was obviously satisfied though; since they had actually been living out their fantasies, John hadn’t had those dreams.   
But that night, John found himself dreaming about Sherlock; in it he was brushing Sherlock’s hair, running his hands through the soft, malleable curls with ease, tying ribbons in them. Sherlock danced around and around, a frilly skirt twirling around him with every movement. 

“Dance with me, Daddy” Sherlock said, his lips parting in a wide smile as he took John’s hands and they danced. 

“You’re beautiful….you’re daddy’s beautiful baby” John said in awe, puling Sherlock closer to him as they swayed to some soft music in the background. 

Sherlock smiled, his cheeks growing red at the praise. “Daddy….” He said as if embarrassed. He nibbled on his thumb self-consciously. 

“But you are, Sherlock” John gushed. “You are my little baby and I love you so, so much” He put his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pulled him even closer, flush to him. 

Sherlock’s cheeks were flaming red as he looked into John’s eyes, barely swaying to the music they were supposed to be dancing to. “Kiss me, daddy” he said, his voice sounding breathless. 

His heart hammering, he leaned in and placed his lips on Sherlock’s, suddenly consumed for this and only this and then-

John was woken suddenly and forcefully by something pressed against him. He realized that Sherlock was climbing into bed when he smelled the strong scent of baby powder. 

“Geez……take up the whole bed” Sherlock was muttering to himself as he crashed against John in bed. Sherlock getting into bed was like a bull in a china shop; no one could sleep through it. 

“Bloody hell!” John’s tone came out angry and annoyed and he wasn’t sure why; he wanted Sherlock in bed with him but now all he felt was unnerving rage at having been woken up. 

“Sorry……you’re in the middle of the bed” Sherlock said. In Sherlock’s defense, John was actually in the middle of the bed. He scooted over to the side that has become his side and Sherlock nestled in next to him. When John glanced at the clock, it flashed 3:06; surprisingly, Sherlock actually came to bed when he asked him to. 

Sherlock scooted up next to John, laying his head on John’s chest without being prompted; John put his arm around Sherlock and pulled him close. This is nice, familiar….comfortable. John had almost fallen asleep again when he heard a small voice in his ear. 

“You were talking in your sleep, daddy” Sherlock said, sounding amused. 

“Oh yeah?” John asked sleepily. “What did I say?”

Sherlock giggled, shaking them both slightly. “You said my name……a lot” he said, obviously pleased with himself. 

John felt his cheeks burn in the darkness. “Oh shut up…..”

“You dream about me, daddy?” Sherlock asked, not letting it go. He was fishing for details and John was not about to share. If they were going to have that conversation, it would be when he was fully awake and conscious. 

“Sherlock, give daddy a good night kiss” John said sleepily, half because he wanted one and half because he wanted to distract Sherlock from his current train of thought. He opened one eye slightly and looked at Sherlock who was turning his head toward John, smiling. He placed a kiss to John’s cheeks and nose, not his lips. They were exaggerated, wet, sticky (he must have gotten into the sweets!) kisses of a child and Sherlock giggled slightly. When John smiled, Sherlock repeated his assault of kisses.

“Well, that’s a kiss attack” John teased at Sherlock’s enthusiasm, wondering why he felt a slight disappointment that Sherlock had avoided his lips. 

“Daddy needs love” Sherlock said, his voice a little too adult, a little too knowing. John was glad when it didn’t turn into anything else and Sherlock just cuddled close to him. 

……  
John and Sherlock kept busy the next few weeks and didn’t have any time to be alone to play together. Sherlock had two back to back cases and John was kept busy at the surgery with a huge bout of flu. John didn’t even think much of the strange conversation with Sherlock and the sudden interest in seeing him dressed up until he got a large box in the mail. He hadn’t remembered even buying anything; it’d all been a bit of a blur. When he opened the box he found an adult sized white onesie with blue letters, “My Daddy Loves Me!” It had blue ruffled skirt with purple polka dots and a matching blue hair bow. It was adorable…..what the hell had he been thinking? Sherlock would never wear   
this…….but…..what if he did? 

Glad Sherlock wasn’t home yet, John stuffed the item back in the box and hid it, wondering how he could have possibly bought something so audacious not under the influence of alcohol or some kind of Sherlock induced drug. At least he had had remembered enough to pick Sherlock’s favorite color. 

John had made up his mind not to say anything about it at all; with the actual dress in possession, he was embarrassed that he’d even considered it. But it seemed that his mind had other ideas; in the next week he had three dreams featuring Sherlock in his new outfit. John knew he had to say something. Aside from the fact that he was just bloody curious about what Sherlock would look like, he wanted to change Sherlock’s bad feelings about it into something good. He had seen the look on Sherlock’s face when he had recounted the tale; he’d loved having the attention lavished on him and when it had fallen apart, he’d come up with the idea that it was all wrong. 

John woke up on the morning of the third dream, staring off to the sun filtering through the curtains and feeling the empty space in the bed next to him keenly. It was the first full day he’d had off in two weeks but he didn’t feel as relaxed as he should have been. The flat was quiet, quiet enough that he knew Sherlock wasn’t here; he had texted John yesterday that they had made an arrest but when John went to sleep last night, well into the night, Sherlock still wasn’t home. John got slowly out bed and made his way to the bathroom. After taking a shower and changing into a dry nappy, he put on sweat pants and went to make breakfast. Sherlock was nowhere to be found and John felt achingly lonely. Wondering if he was to have a long, slow day, John’s movements were slow as he made a simple breakfast and tea. 

It was obscene, really, how dependent they were on each other, John mused as he munched on his toast. Not even up for an hour and he was already chomping at the bit for Sherlock to come home. They’d been together so long that it was almost impossible for him to entertain himself. It didn’t necessarily bother John; it was nice to need someone that deeply. But that didn’t mean that he wanted to share that information with anyone either. He began to phase out the television program and get lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t look forward to sharing Sherlock’s new gift with him; he had no idea of knowing how he would take it. He might be offended, embarrassed; he might get mad, yell. The last thing that John wanted was for Sherlock to think that he was making fun of him by trying to do what Sherlock had said embarrassed him so. John really didn’t know why it suddenly appealed to him so much; the idea of being able to do something else to admire and pamper Sherlock could only be a good thing to him though. He could tell that it intrigued Sherlock; even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. John wanted to take what had been a bad memory and make it good. He wanted him to know that he was adorable in whatever he wore; that he deserved admiration and care. 

John had cleaned up around the flat, done some laundry and was starting on answering his e-mails when Sherlock finally arrived at the flat. He came whirling around the flat, tossing off his coat like a hurricane before going to the kitchen. When he came out of the kitchen, Sherlock was eating biscuits; not little but obviously he was done with the case if he was eating anything at all. John had long since given up his argument that Sherlock should eat more food and less junk like biscuits and crisps. If Sherlock gave up junk food he would probably starve. 

“Got it all sorted, I expect?” John asked, looking at Sherlock over his laptop as Sherlock plopped into his chair. He kicked off his shoes, curling up into the chair. Definitely relaxed but still not little.

“Yes. The paperwork was a nightmare……tough job getting a proper confession out of that piece of revolting garbage.” Sherlock mused between biscuits. “But eventually he cracked. Too much pressure.”

“I’m sure that you had something to do with an increase in pressure” John said. 

Sherlock grinned manically. “Might have, yes” he said. 

John felt a nervous stirring in his belly. He wanted to ask Sherlock about the outfit; best to get it out of the way before it could eat him up. But at the same time it would be so much easier if Sherlock was little when he did that. “You…..uh…..want me to help you get dressed?” John asked hesitantly. It was usually how Sherlock got into being little, having John dress him into his baby clothes and nappies. But it was usually at Sherlock’s request; it felt odd asking him to do it. 

“No…..I still have some work to do on the computer.” Sherlock said, finishing off what was left in the package of biscuits. John felt his nerve failing him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. I bought you something” John said excitedly, hoping to push Sherlock little. 

While Sherlock didn’t seem to regress any, his face grew intrigued. “Really? What is it?” he asked. 

“It’s a new outfit. Want to see it?” John asked. He watched Sherlock smile, trying to hold in his excitement. 

“Sure” he said. “Let’s see it.”

Sherlock followed John out of the sitting room and into his bedroom. It was only once they arrived that John really felt himself grow nervous. Why hadn’t he waited until Sherlock was little? Little Sherlock would have been easier to talk to; now because he was so bloody impatient it was going to be ten times as hard. With Sherlock waiting expectantly behind him, John stooped to the floor and pulled the box out. Standing up, his hands shook slightly. 

“Now, don’t get mad at me” John said, tumbling out before he could have a chance to say anything else. 

Sherlock gave a nervous sort of laugh. “Mad? At you giving me a gift?” he asked. “Why would I get mad?”

“You just might not like it” John said, feeling sweat rolling on his skin in all sorts of unfortunate places. “It’s rather infantile”

Sherlock laughed again, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “You might have noticed I like infantile things” he said. “Honestly, John…..”

“Yeah, suppose you’re right…..” John said. With the last ounce of courage he had he handed Sherlock the package and waited as he opened it. 

Sherlock pulled the box open and lifted the dress out, frowning for a moment at it before he looked at John. “What is this about?” he asked. His voice was slightly accusatory but not angry like he suspected. 

“I thought it was cute” John said, laughing nervously. He point to the onesie. “See, it says ‘daddy loves me’ and I sure do you love you.”

Sherlock wasn’t fooled; his face was neutral. This was so much worse that he wasn’t little. “This is a skirt…..I’m not a girl” he said flatly.

“I know you’re not” John said quickly. “But I just thought……after what you told me. You know, Mycroft and the dressing up……I thought you might like it.”

Sherlock let out a long sigh, setting the outfit down on the bed. “And did you so happen to forget the part where I said he humiliated me?” he asked in a hurt tone. “What? Do you just want me to play into some sick fantasy of yours?”

John cringed; this was going about as well as he had expected which was pretty badly. He took a deep breath, gathering his words carefully so that he didn’t botch this up any more than he already had. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you’d be bloody adorable in this outfit” John said honestly. “If that makes me sick then I’m sorry but that’s the truth. But that was not my sole motivation in doing this. The way you told the story, you sounded like you enjoyed the dressing up and being doted on. When Mycroft made fun of you, it took something that was happy for you and made it bad. But Sherlock……”John paused; it was so much harder talking about feelings when they were big. They had made significant progress but it was still hard. “Sherlock, you deserve to be admired and treasured. You deserve to feel attractive. And I want to make you feel that. If you really don’t want to give it a try then I’m not going to make you. But I’m not trying to make fun of you; surely you know me better than that now, Sherlock.”

Sherlock was silent, looking away from John. John gave him all of the time that he needed even though it felt like an eternity to him. “I know….” He said somewhat sadly. “I know I can trust you. I’ve trusted you with literally everything about me. But it’s still just hard sometimes…….”

“I know it is” John said. “I feel the same way. It’s hard even for us to be completely open and honest all of the time.”

Sherlock hesitated. “I’ll try it” he said, looking down at the outfit. “But right now I really do have things I have to do and I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Okay?”

John knew he hardly had an option to argue. “Okay” he agreed, hoping their delicate balance would remain unbroken.


	3. Chapter 3

After the encounter over the dress, John and Sherlock had awkwardly parted ways. Sherlock had gone to his room where John could hear the click of keys and he was left to fend for himself the rest of the day. It was not how John liked things being; he didn’t like to feel the air between them was not cleared. When Sherlock hadn’t emerged from his bedroom all day, John had used his run to Angelo’s for take away to persuade him out. They had eaten their dinner on the couch watching a film and John had once again felt things were right. 

After the film ended, Sherlock had asked John for a bath; he was all too happy to oblige. As he watched his little boy, pushing his pirate ship around the tub and humming a tune, he felt happy contentment spreading through him. He waited until the water was long cold before he finally said, “Alright, my little pirate. Time to get out of the ocean.”

“Aw…..daddy……do I have to do?” Sherlock asked in a whiny voice. It was always a struggle to get him out of the tub. 

Sherlock looked up at John, his wet curls covering his entire forehead, flashing John one of his cutest smiles; John had to admit that it nearly won him over. John had long adapted to pulling past Sherlock’s awarding cuteness to be a responsible parent. “Yes little duck” John insisted. “The water is cold and you could catch a cold.”

“We could put more hot water in the tub” Sherlock said, grinning up at John. 

“Nice try” John said with a laugh. “Your skin is completely pruny. Time to get out. Daddy will put you in a nappy.” John paused, gathering a bit of courage. “And if you’d like daddy can put you in your new outfit.”

Sherlock, allowing himself to be little was a lot more receptive. “You think I’ll be cute, daddy?” he asked, shyly tipping his head to one side. That alone was enough to make John die of cuteness. He was glad that he was more open to the idea now that he was little. 

John ruffled Sherlock’s wet head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I think you’ll look beautiful, sweetheart.” He said sincerely. 

“Okay, daddy!” Sherlock said excitedly, almost leaping from the tub. John caught him around the middle with the towel and pulled him back to him. Sherlock giggled as he slide and bumped into John’s chest. 

“You can’t run away with wet feet, silly. You’ll fall” John teased. A warmth was spreading through his heart and mind; it was so much better when things were okay between them.   
Sherlock giggled. “I’m incredibly light on my feet” he said, gesturing wildly. 

John began to rub the towel over his body. “Well, even so you need to be dry for your new clothes.” 

John dried Sherlock off took him to his bedroom, taking Sherlock’s hand to lead him. Sherlock shuffled his feet along childishly, biting on his finger nervously. John made a mental note to find a dummy when they got to Sherlock’s room. 

When they reached Sherlock’s room, he scurried over to his bed, laying down on his back and assuming his nappy position. Lying stretched out stark naked and looking at John innocently, Sherlock was almost too adorable for John to handle. John went to get the nappy and conveniently found a dummy sitting on his dresser. 

John walked back over to Sherlock who was smiling happily up at him, though the nervous finger was still in his mouth. Gently, John pulled it out and replaced it with the dummy which Sherlock began to suck on enthusiastically. Sherlock focused mostly on his dummy as John put the nappy on him, fitting it on with expert ease. Warmly nappied, John left Sherlock to retrieve the new outfit from his own room. When he came back, he didn’t see Sherlock at first. He wasn’t on the bed and John probably wouldn’t have seen him if Sherlock hadn’t given himself away by giggling too loudly. It was then that John saw the top of Sherlock’s curly head sticking out from the edge of his bed. 

“Where did my Sherlock go? Did he disappear?” John asked dramatically, playing into Sherlock’s game. He was earned with an enthusiastic giggle. 

“Oh where can he be?” John asked loudly, making a show of looking for Sherlock before stopping. “Oh…..what will I ever do without my Sherlock!? I will be ever so sad……I’ll cry!”

The pressure of possibly seeing John sad was too much for little Sherlock to bear. “No, don’t cry, daddy! I’m right here!” Sherlock said, popping his head over top of the bed. 

John put his hand on his heart as if startled him. “Oh my goodness……you scared me little pirate!” he said. “You appeared out of thin air!” 

John walked over to Sherlock, who he found sitting on his legs on the floor, bouncing up and down as he giggled. “You’re so silly, daddy” he said as John came to sit down on the floor next to him. 

“I think you’re the silly one” John said, giving Sherlock’s belly an affectionate tickle. “You’re the one that hid from me. Of course I’d be terrified to think you left me.”

“I’d never leave you” Sherlock said, sitting up straighter on his legs and smiling at John. 

“Never ever?” John asked. 

Sherlock grew serious with concentration that he rarely saw on little Sherlock’s face. “Nope…..I never could leave you because I love you too much” he said. His voice only sounded half little and John felt his heart grow warm. 

“Well, that’s good to hear because I love you so much I never could leave you” John said sincerely. 

Sherlock concentrated, looking hard at the floor. “Something’s changing…..something’s bigger and different about how much I love you” he said seriously. 

John was surprised at the serious turn this joke had turned. “What do you mean, sweetie?” he asked. 

Sherlock smiled. He looked small and innocent again. “Have to be big to figure it out. I’ll tell you later” he looked around John’s back where he was hiding his new outfit. “I want my new clothes!” 

John was confused by Sherlock’s suddenly adult turn and even more so that he had something to say that he couldn’t say when little but he quickly dismissed it. “These…..are these what you want?” John asked teasingly, showing Sherlock the new onesie and skirt. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Wow…..it’s so pretty” he said. “You think I’ll really look good in it?” He seemed excited but nervous at the same time. 

“I think you look pretty in anything, even just your nappy” John said, tickling his belly again. “But I think you’ll be little princess in this outfit.”

Sherlock didn’t seem insulted like he had the other day about the taboo princess word. He held up his arms. “Help me in it, daddy?” he asked. 

John wouldn’t have dared refused. “Of course” he said excitedly and he unsnapped the onesie and worked it over Sherlock’s head. Threading his arms in the sleeves and moving the suit around his thin body, John came to snap the buttons at the nappy area. Sherlock stood for a moment, admiring the onesie itself, running his hands over the letters on it.

“It says, ‘My Daddy Loves Me’” John said, happily. “Because I want everyone to know that I love you.” Sherlock liked to pretend that he couldn’t read when he was little and he acted as though the news was new to him. 

“And now for the extra cute part” John said holding out the skirt. He held it open for Sherlock to step into and though Sherlock observed it with some trepidation, he held onto John’s shoulders and stepped into the skirt. 

As Sherlock stepped back, he gave an experimental twist, the skirt twirling around him. Seeming to find that to his liking, he gave a little jump up in the air so his skirt went up and then down. He looked toward John for approval, smiling. John thought it was cutest thing he had ever seen, which coming from little Sherlock was saying a lot. 

“Oh look at my beautiful, lovely little baby” John said, letting his enthusiasm gush from his words. “How pretty you are.”

“I am?” Sherlock asked shyly, nibbling on his finger because goodness only knew where the dummy was now. His cheeks tinted pink with pleasured embarrassment. 

“You’re so pretty I could eat you all up!” John teased. He made a reach for Sherlock who backed away as slightly afraid. 

“You can’t eat me, daddy!” Sherlock said with a laugh. “I’m a little boy, I’m not food!”

“Are you sure?” John asked. “I think you look like a pretty piece of candy and I think I can eat you” John made a leap toward Sherlock who backed away.

“No!” Sherlock insisted though he was laughing the whole time. He ran around the room, jumping over the bed to run around the other side. John chased him, having far too much fun to care about the no-jumping-on-the-bed rule. They made several circuits around the room, laughing until their sides hurt before John finally managed to catch Sherlock. He tackled him onto the bed, pinning him down beneath him. 

Sherlock wiggled under him to try to get away, laughing and out of breath. “Uh oh…..look what I caught me” John teased him, “So pretty and perfect for eating!” 

“No!” Sherlock said laughing so much it sounded like a yes. 

“A yummy little tummy” John said, nibbling at Sherlock’s stomach through his onesie. He moved his head to the side and nibbled up Sherlock’s arm. “And a yummy little arm”

“You can’t eat me!” Sherlock said. 

“Oh, it would seem that I can!” John said in a singsong voice. “I’ve already eaten your tummy and your arm. I wonder what other delicious parts I can gobble up! What about your pretty cheeks?” John gave them a playful nibble before moving to what he knew was Sherlock’s most ticklish spot. “And I bet your neck is so tasty!”

John dove his mouth into the soft flesh of Sherlock’s neck. He had expected Sherlock to squirm and wiggle so much under the ticklish nibble that he wet his nappy. Only, Sherlock didn’t squirm at all; he didn’t even laugh. He let out a gasping noise, one between a sigh and moan. It was a sound that he had never heard from Sherlock before, certainly never at his hands. It was one the Woman would have been proud of, surely. Sherlock’s hands dug into John’s sides, almost painfully as John’s mouth moved on his neck. It was then that he realized that he wasn’t nibbling Sherlock’s neck as he had the other parts of his body; he was more sucking on it than anything, pulling the soft skin between his lips. Even once he realized it, he didn’t want to stop. The stirring in low in him, the sounds Sherlock was making…..it all seemed very adult to him and suddenly that made him uncomfortable. 

John pulled back, trying to hide the emotion on his face. “See, told you I could eat you up” John said, determined to turn things light hearted again. He didn’t want to think that he had made Sherlock feel something real and forbidden. He didn’t want to think he had felt that same thing. And certainly not when he was little; it just felt wrong. He shouldn’t be touching his little boy in an adult way. 

Sherlock’s face was red, flushed. “Yep, you were right” he said, forcing his voice to be little because it had slipped a little bit into adult with the odd touch. 

“You know, there’s one part of your outfit left” John said, clearing his throat, eager to change the subject. He pulled out Sherlock’s bow from the box on the floor. 

“Ooooh…..pretty daddy! I love it!” Sherlock said, hoping up and down little. John was glad to see the crisis was averted. 

“How about daddy brushes your beautiful hair and puts it in?” John said eagerly. 

“Yes! Yes!” Sherlock said happily, still jumping up and down. He rubbed his hair. “Be easy with it…..my hair is sensitive” 

“I know sweetheart” John said. He’d learned that lesson the first time he had washed his hair; one little tug in the wrong place and he whined incessantly. “I’ll be careful.”

Sherlock sat cross legged on the bed, expectantly waiting for John. John sat behind him, finding a brush on the nightstand. He ran his things through his hair experimentally a few times, finding that it was pleasantly untangled today. He began to run the brush through his hair, enjoying how the curls felt as they ran through his fingers. 

“Your hair is so soft and beautiful” John gushed, glad for Sherlock’s little again. “Daddy has such a beautiful baby.”

Sherlock put his hands on his cheeks, happily embarrassed. “I’m not beautiful, daddy” he argued. 

John paused at the brushing, putting both of his arms around him and holding him close. “You are the most beautiful baby ever and daddy couldn’t be happier with you” he said, not letting go until Sherlock was laughing. 

……  
What the hell am I thinking? John asked himself when he finished dressing and looked down at his babyish outfit. I have completely, totally lost it now. 

It had briefly passed John’s mind when he had seen the outfit that Sherlock had picked out for him to just back out and not do it. That would have been completely cheap and spineless, not to mention ruin all of Sherlock’s trust in him so that idea had only fleetingly passed though his consciousness. Sherlock had trusted him enough to take a chance and try something that had been somewhat uncomfortable for him, even if he had secretly wanted it in some way. 

It really wasn’t that much to expect of John, really, especially compared to what John had asked him to wear. It was only a onesie, along with his usual nappy; it wasn’t much compared to what Sherlock had worn over the years. But John, who didn’t consider himself little and very rarely acted small, it was a step in the dark. 

John looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, the teal onesie hugging his frame snuggly but not too snuggly; Sherlock had ordered it so of course it fit perfectly. Blue and green patchwork fish swam across the front of the fabric; it was really quite cute. But it was just so bloody babyish. As John shifted his weight and his nappy crinkled, he knew he was being ridiculous. Of course it was babyish; it wasn’t any more babyish than a nappy. Only, to him, nappies didn’t feel babyish. It wasn’t about being little to him. 

“John? You alright in there?” Sherlock asked from somewhere close to the outside of the bathroom. He had offered to put John into his nappy and onesie, of course, but John had refused. That had felt…..over the edge babyish. Sherlock had agreed that John didn’t have to act particularly little if he didn’t want to; Sherlock just wanted to see him look little. Though, Sherlock had made it known he thought John’s refusal to really try being little was denial. John had to admit that the few chances that he had taken being small, he had enjoyed. But while he could see in retrospect the clues in his past that he had always had some sort of nappy fetish, he’d never longed to be little. His first try at trying nappies, he’d been hooked. If he was ever to get used to being little, it was going to take a lot of getting used to. 

“I’m coming…..just a second” John called out, feeling his cheeks flame before he had even opened the door. Get a grip……Sherlock wore a bloody dress for you, John chided himself. He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about. While John felt mortified at his appearance, he knew Sherlock would be tickled over it. He had always wanted John to dress little before. 

Not giving himself another second to be embarrassed, John stepped out of the bathroom. His bare feet padded against the cold floor, his nappy sounding louder than normal as he walked to short distance from the bathroom to the sitting room. His hands instantly went to his chest, wrenching them nervously; even that small action, combined with the outfit, made him feel littler. 

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, typing away on his laptop, engrossed in his task. John felt like saying something, making his presence known but his tongue felt stuck. Sherlock typed at the keys for another couple, uncomfortable minutes before he seemed to sense John’s presence. He looked up from the computer screen, his eyes connecting with John’s. 

“John…….”

Sherlock sat there and just……stared. For what felt like the longest time, Sherlock just sat there, not saying or doing anything. John felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead. Say something, say something…….John’s mind screamed at him. 

After what felt like an eternity, Sherlock got up slowly from the couch and walked over to where John stood in the middle of the room. Sherlock’s eyes were dark, intensely black, staring John down in a way that made him feel like he was burning inside. 

“So…..what do you think?” John asked when he couldn’t tolerate the silence anymore. Sherlock, again, just stared at him……it felt like this was the longest he’d ever gone without talking. John swallowed hard, contemplating how much Sherlock must hate it if he wasn’t saying or doing anything. 

But then Sherlock did do something. He looked down at John, making him feel very small whether he wanted to or not, raising his head. Sherlock ran his hand along John’s cheek, making goose bumps run along his arm. The black in Sherlock’s eyes seemed to blaze red as he put his other hand on John’s cheek, cupping his face and making him look up at Sherlock. 

“John…..you’re so…….”Sherlock started but he didn’t finish. His eyes flickered to John’s lips and he moved in slightly; for a second John was sure that Sherlock was going to kiss him or something crazy like that. It suddenly felt so strange; this was little but it wasn’t at the same time and John didn’t really know what to feel. 

Sherlock must have felt the same because a look of confusion passed over his face and then he backed away, taking John’s appearance in. 

“You’re so adorable” Sherlock said, a wide smile breaking across his face. 

John felt a blush spread across his face and up to his ears. Never once in his life had been called adorable. “I’m sure I’m not…….but I’m glad you like it” John said, shyly. 

Sherlock took John’s hands in his own and beamed at him. “No, really you are” he insisted. “I know you won’t believe it, but you’ve never been……”

“What?” John asked, smiling now that he was beaming in the praise. 

“Cuter” Sherlock said somewhat reluctantly, his own pale cheeks blushing. 

There was a long pause, Sherlock looking at John as if he was now the one who was embarrassed. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask you to be little but can I ask you to try one thing?” Sherlock asked, looking shy. 

John braced himself. “Well, let’s hear it…..”

……..  
Sherlock had insisted and John had given in. He had said that wearing a onesie was far enough baby for one day but he had broken even his own rule. Maybe it was Sherlock’s enthusiasm at John’s appearance in his baby attire; John had to admit that he enjoyed being looked at so……thoroughly. Maybe it was Sherlock’s argument; “You’re such a good caregiver, John. You never stop taking care of other people. I think you’re afraid to even let anyone take care of you. I know you think that you don’t deserve it, but really you do.”  
But whatever it was that finally pushed him over the edge, John knew that it was something that he couldn’t completely get back from. Curled up on the couch, head nestled against Sherlock’s chest, hand clutching his shirt, John felt content. Even the nipple in his mouth was beginning to feel normal. It had taken him a while to get a rhythm to the suckling motions, pulling the warm milk out of the bottle but now he felt he was getting the hang of it. 

Sherlock had wanted to bottle feed him and for some reason John had said yes. And for some even stranger reason, John was enjoying it. It wasn’t that he was little; he didn’t feel like a baby, even aside from the circumstances. John had always enjoyed feeding Sherlock; in that state, he was so little, so unguarded, so affectionate. But though John didn’t feel little, he was definitely enjoying the experience. Sherlock had the bottle propped against his chest, using his free hand to run his hand along John’s hair and face, looking down at him that with that same expression of drinking it all in. 

When John finished the milk in the bottle, Sherlock laid it down on the couch, using his now free hands to pull John closer to him. Running his hand along John’s hair and looking at him with adoration, Sherlock said, “What is happening to us, John?” His voice was calm, though his words suggested that something was wrong. John couldn’t see, with how relaxed and at peace they were, how anything could be wrong. 

John roused his mind from the completely peaceful and happy place it had been, turning slightly so that his face was less hidden in Sherlock’s shirt and more looking up at him. “What do you mean?” he asked. The only thing that seemed in some way ‘wrong’ to him was the fact that he was wearing a onesie. Other than that, everything was always as it had been. Things were, in fact, much better in his opinion. 

“I mean…..”Sherlock said but then a look of confusion and frustration came over his face as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was the look Sherlock always had when he was trying to describe his feelings when he wasn’t little. While it was still very hard for him, there was a time in the beginning of their relationship where it would have been impossible and John knew he had come a long way. 

“It’s okay…..take your time.” John encouraged. Sherlock seemed to grow more frustrated the longer it took him to order his thoughts. It was obvious he was looking for help or he wouldn’t have brought it up but that didn’t mean he knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

“You can be little, if it would help” John supplied after a few minutes. While he wasn’t exactly emotionally balanced when he was acting little, he was much more open and John thought it might help him get through whatever he was feeling. 

“No” Sherlock said with feeling. “No, I want to say this as myself” He hesitated for a long moment and John braced himself for what Sherlock felt he couldn’t say little. At this point, Sherlock had grown completely comfortable with his little side and it was odd that he wouldn’t desire to be in that state. 

“I guess….what I’m trying to say is……” Sherlock said though much concentration. “…..is that I always think that there’s an end…..but I’m always wrong.”

John felt something in the pit of his stomach stir in worry; Sherlock never said he was wrong about anything willingly, not even to John. Feeling something bad was about to happen, John braced himself. “An end to what?” he asked, swallowing his worry as much as he could. 

“To how much I love you” Sherlock said, his eyes softening. “I always think that I can’t love you anymore that I already do and it yet it always gets bigger.”

John felt his heart moved, felt the worry in his throat turning into a lump. “Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked. Sherlock’s words described how John felt as well. Though his care for Sherlock outshined every relationship he’d ever had, somehow it was always growing deeper and more meaningful. If Sherlock was looking for answers for why that was, he couldn’t give it; he didn’t have answers himself. All he knew was that it was a good thing. 

Sherlock didn’t answer the question; he just plowed on, seemingly gaining speed now. “When we first met, I didn’t even know what was happening to me” he admitted, “I just cared for you so much. “Almost instant, it was…….and I always thought that was the end. But then you found out about my being little and the way you accepted me and cared for me had it grow so much bigger than that. And again, I thought that was the end. But now it’s not…..something else is there and I sometimes feel like I’m going to explode it’s so much.” 

John was silent for a long moment, just staring up at Sherlock and holding onto his shirt, as if trying to ground himself. He didn’t have answers for Sherlock; he didn’t even have answers for himself. He knew his feelings for Sherlock were changing, growing stronger. But he couldn’t explain it…..they loved each other in every sense of the word except one. It was the one subject they had always insisted they wouldn’t cross and yet John felt that the days they would be able to say they weren’t in love with each were coming to a close. He couldn’t decide if that terrified or thrilled him. Perhaps both. 

“I’m sorry, John” Sherlock said suddenly, looking sorrowful. He held John close to him in a gentle, loving way, as if he really were a baby that might break, before pulling back.   
“What are you sorry about? Sherlock, you hardly need to be sorry you care for me” John insisted. “I care about you too. I love you”

“I’m an obsessive person, John” Sherlock said, “I can’t do anything if I don’t do it to the extreme. Look already how my life has changed you…….chasing dangerous criminals for a living; now you even like the danger, seek it out.”

John laughed. “Sherlock……I’ve always been that way. I was solider, remember?” he asked. “I do very well with danger. I can’t stand boring. I love what we do. You didn’t drag me into it.”

“And now I’ve drug you into being little even though you never wanted it.” Sherlock bemoaned, gesturing to John’s attire. 

John couldn’t let that stand; he couldn’t possibly let Sherlock think that he didn’t love everything about their little life. Grabbing both sides of Sherlock’s face with his hands, he forced him to look at him. “I need to set you straight, Mr. Holmes” John said seriously so Sherlock would listen. “You didn’t drag me into anything at all. This is not forced. Before I found out your secret, I knew nothing of this kind of life. But once I found out about it, once I shared it with you, I realized how beautiful it is. It’s beautiful to care for someone on such an innocent and dependent level. I would never go back to the way things were.”

“But….I feel….so….much” Sherlock said honestly. “I’m afraid it’ll never stop getting bigger and I’ll consume you.”

John had always known that despite Sherlock’s sometimes austere outside façade, he really felt things so deeply inside. It’s what his little side was really about, John felt. He had never felt comfortable sharing his feelings openly and had grown to hide them. His insides were like a fire, consuming him from the inside out. He was afraid that he could hurt John with how much he felt; likely he felt that John didn’t share his feelings. And even though John was too afraid to put a name on what he felt, he knew exactly what it was. The uncharted territory, the one kind of love they didn’t already share. 

“Did you ever stop to think I want to be consumed, you brilliant idiot?” John teased, smiling up at Sherlock. 

Sherlock paused. “You…..you do?” he asked in surprise. 

John knew they were both consumed, like two piece of a whole that would be broken if separated. There was no point in hiding it. Without even thinking about it until he was there, John leaned up slightly and gave Sherlock a kiss. It surprised him; he could feel Sherlock give a little jump. He’d only done it one other time when Sherlock was big. John was afraid he’d made a wrong move. 

But then there was a hand on the back of his head, supporting it, and the feel of silky soft tips against his own rough ones. It was slow, hesitant, cautious but it felt sweet and safe……so safe because it was Sherlock, the man who had saved him countless times, who cared for him more than he ever imagined. Though it was gentle, only the whispers of lips against his own, he felt his heart heating quickly and his breath in his throat. No kiss could ever be this good again because he could never feel as safe and loved as he did with Sherlock. 

When they pulled back, Sherlock was smiling shyly. John knew that it was undeniable now that things were changing; he had felt that stirring inside him. But he also knew that he felt so comfortable and loved in Sherlock’s arms that somehow they’d get through whatever knew things were coming for them. 

“You have already consumed me, Sherlock Holmes” John said, sincerity in his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's the end of this happy little chapter. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, you're all lovely! Let me know what you thought of this instalment :) Keep your eyes peeled for the next part of this verse; its one of my favorites to come and hope it will be yours as well!


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